


all you gotta do is trust that i’m being true

by vixxpires



Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Han Sanghyuk | Hyuk is a Brat, M/M, Shapeshifting, Warlocks, not a pop-tart promo i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-21 18:33:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15563922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vixxpires/pseuds/vixxpires
Summary: Hakyeon needs to summon his Familiar. Unknown to Hakyeon, however, his Familiar is a shapeshifting brat.





	all you gotta do is trust that i’m being true

**Author's Note:**

> title from fun by troye sivan

With a short puff, Hakyeon blows the overgrown bangs out of his eyes. The only sources of light come from the half moon shining through the translucent cream curtains and the scented candle burning on the television stand in his living room. The small flame fills the house with the aroma of freshly-baked apple pie and Hakyeon happily inhales the scent. The bright Ametrine Crystal to his left is reflecting the moonlight ever so lightly onto Hakyeon’s loose-fitting white shirt and onto the base of his neck. He leans his hands on his crossed legs to double-check that the crow feather he placed directly in front of him had not moved from a slight breeze. 

Recently, his dreams are filled with midnight darkness. This darkness extends past his dreams; even when awakening and grabbing at his blankets to make sure he's still in bed, he can hear the loud, desperate screams of crows echoing in his ears. His dream journal is laying on his right, open to the first time he wrote about a crow. Hakyeon’s handwriting is barely legible, not only because it was written well into the night, but the fearful emotion coursing through Hakyeon’s body caused his hands to tremble violently. 

_ July 5th, 2017.  _

_ 3:47 A.M _

_ I was alone. Approximately 7 P.M. Not late enough in the night to have fear settling in my stomach. It must’ve been summer. Even in my dream, the sun was still shining. There was wheat growing as high as I, some even taller. A slight breeze broke the sticky feeling of humidity. It was peaceful, so much so that I could meditate right then and there. However, the peace was broken by a scream. I felt my heartbeat rush as I tried to locate where the horrific sound came from. It was human, biologically male. This was unlike any nightmare I’d ever experienced. It was too realistic; I felt as if my feet were sinking into the dirt, like the wheat scratched my body. The scream had an underlying, higher screech, much like a bird’s. I ran until the scream sounded again, closer, more monstrous. The scream became slightly less human every time it rang out, but I ran until the clouds became dark, filled with rain. Night approached and brought the temperatures down with it. Chills began to shake my body involuntarily. I sat in the wheat when the scream had not rang out for about five minutes. Fatigue begun to set in— all my adrenaline was gone— so I laid in the field, allowing my eyes to fall shut and a heavy breath leave my lungs.. It was just as quiet as it was before the scream, but the serenity was gone. I opened my eyes and froze. I could not move a single muscle— even the chills were gone. The clouds formed a crow (or perhaps raven?) eye. Their blackness was more than precipitation, it was a sign. A screech suddenly blared so close to me that I was thrown out of sleep. I can still hear the screams, both the crow and the human’s, reverberating in my ears and mind. It echoes like my mother’s old songs. The crow’s song is comforting in a strange way. It sounds familiar somehow. The human’s, however, is not. _

Hakyeon shudders slightly at the memory of his first dream involving the crow. After he awoke that night, he found himself unable to fall back asleep because of the screams replaying in his head. Since that first dream, Hakyeon cannot go to sleep without a crow appearing. Sometimes his dreams wake him when only the vampires roam, but sometimes they are peaceful, crows singing their songs and flying without a care in the world, their sleek, black feathers contrasting with the light blue sky and fluffy, white clouds. He takes a deep breath in, thinking of calm skies, of crows soaring, of beige wheat swaying from a slight breeze, of peace, and Hakyeon is suddenly transported to where he feels safest. 

Meditation is something Hakyeon has learned to master as a Warlock; he would not be able to do even a quater the spells in his books if he could not meditate. 

Hakyeon, however, has never tried to summon a Familiar. Familiars are more in tune with nature than any other creature, helping to focus magic to make more powerful spells. Every person he knows that practices witchcraft has one. Hakyeon, honestly, has never seen a purpose of having one— not until his Familiar essentially invaded his mind and dreams, that is. He has always been great at magic and never needed any help from a Familiar. 

To summon a Familiar, Warlocks and Witches alike must meditate and use a spell to bring their Familiar out from deep inside themselves and onto Earth. 

Hakyeon is in the same field his first dream took place. The tall wheat and clear skies always have a way of calming him no matter what happens in them. The spell is simple— just some basic Latin, which Hakyeon excels at. It took him only twenty minutes to memorize the spell. 

The wheat towers over him as he sits cross-legged, feeling the Earth sink slightly below him. His eyes are shut tight, knowing better than to open them. Latin rolls off his tongue easily.

“I call upon you, my familiar,  my protector and guide.  connected with the Earth,  and intertwined with my soul.”

The wind begins to whistle causing the wheat to whip around him, but he remains untouched by the grains.

“Heed my call, hear my pleading, for I need you to lead the way.  Show yourself, and all the power, and all the beauty that you are.”

The clouds open up and drench him sticking his clothes to his skin. The ground beneath him is shaking like the beginnings of an earthquake. Hakyeon forces himself to keep his eyes shut firmly. 

“May your radiant eyes watch over me and help me as I need,  and may I do the same for you.”

Once the last syllable of Latin leaves Hakyeon’s mouth, he no longer feels raindrops falling on his head, nor does he feel any earthquake-like force. He slowly opens his eyes to see that the wheat next to him was completely dry, he is the only thing that’s wet; not even the dirt he sits on is damp. He sighs and reminds himself mentally that once he awakens from meditating, his clothes won’t actually be sticking to him. 

He sits and appreciates the sunset and how it tints everything orange. The wheat has never looked as warm and inviting as it does at that moment. Hakyeon smiles when he sees the skin on his arm glowing healthily from the natural lighting. He feels the water on his skin begin to evaporate, his clothes begin to dry. The sun is reflecting in his eyes, making them a warm caramel color as he searches for any marks of a crow. When nothing immediately catches his eye, he forces himself to stand to get a better vantage point, straining his ears to catch any indication of where the crow might be: black feathers, or even just a distant cry of the bird. 

There’s no way the animal is wrong, Hakyeon thinks to himself, because, with the amount of research he did, it must be impossible for his Familiar to be any animal other than a crow. He spent hours learning how to differentiate between ravens and crows and had to hack up fourty dollars to get the crow feather from a shady Warlock named Hongbin. 

He lets out a defeated lip buzz and plops back down into the dirt. 

Just as he’s about to give up and return to reality, he gets hit by an unexplainable wave of emotion. Intense loneliness wraps around his heart making like it will crack and break as easily as glass. Every beat of his heart is palpable, and there’s a slight, dull pain throbbing with every beat. Hakyeon uncrosses his legs and— after mentally reminding himself that no matter how real the dirt feels: it isn’t— lays down on the dirt hoping that it will stop the aching. He stares at the clear sky until his vision begins to double. 

_ This must be what a heart attack feels like _ , he thinks to himself as dread settles in his stomach. Is he having a heart attack in reality and is that why he can’t leave the field? His mind keeps going to the worst, his palms sweating at the thoughts. Is he dead? He curls onto his left side, not noticing the dirt staining his white shirt— he’s too preoccupied with the pain in his chest. 

The pain gets worse every minute that passes, sharper and sharper with every breath he takes. It spreads through his stomach and into his legs, his arms, up his neck and into his head. Hakyeon groans and sobs; he can’t bring himself to move anymore. This has never happened, this field is supposed to be where he feels safe and where nothing can harm him. His eyes squeeze together tightly. The only noises are the sniffles and gasps of his sobs. 

_ “Nobody said this would be pleasant.”  _

An unfamiliar voice sounded by Hakyeon’s head like it was whispered directly into his right ear. Hakyeon starts in response, forcing himself to sit up despite the pain screaming throughout his body. He feels bile rise up his throat and he quickly swallows it back down. His head snaps to his right, searching for the source of the voice. 

_ “You called for me, and I shall appear.” _ The words became softer, more mumbled, and Hakyeon had to strain to understand. His arms are shaking as he tries to hold his body weight, the field spins at what feels like a hundred miles a minute until darkness fills his eyesight and he feels his body collapse onto the wet dirt. A distant caw is the last thing he hears.

—

Hakyeon groans as he comes to, his body aching from passing out on the hardwood floor of his living room. He’s laying on his side, his left arm underneath his chest. “I knew I should’ve gotten carpeting,” he mutters to himself and turns slowly onto his back so his cheek isn’t pressed into the hardwood floor. His throat is dry and his arm is numb from being laid on. Relief washes over him when he realizes that his heart is beating, without pain and that the only discomfort remaining are the aches from passing out onto the floor

Now the other problem, “What just happened?” Hakyeon wonders aloud as he sits himself upright and leans against the couch, too overwhelmed to stand and sit on it. He squints and stares at the green numbers on his cable box. It takes him a few moments to process that it reads 4:26 P.M, late afternoon. 

“You called for your Familiar,” another voice says, muffled. 

Hakyeon screams, loud and high pitched and jumps away from the couch. He turns mid-jump, his eyes landing on a man he’s never seen before sitting on his couch. The guy’s bare feet are on the couch cushion with his knees pulled up to his chest. On his crotch rests a box of hot fudge sundae Pop-Tarts; half of one is shoved in his mouth, the rest clutched in his hand.  His jet-black hair matches the color of his eyes, which are staring confusedly as if he doesn’t understand why Hakyeon jumped away from a stranger resting on his couch. 

The stranger stares at the Pop-Tart in his hand as Hakyeon stutters. He tries to work out his thoughts as the Pop-Tart is slowly consumed. “How did you know that? How did you get into my house? No— wait— first, who are you?” The guy seems offended at the question, his eyebrows pulled together as he nibbles at the remainder of the snack. “What do you mean who am I?” He speaks around a mass of chewed up Pop-Tart, his words barely understandable.

In no mood for games, Hakyeon decides that he just needs this guy out of his house. He can’t try to do this physically, he can tell that he is smaller in stature and muscle mass than the stranger, even with the stranger just sitting on his couch. The Pop-Tart is dropped onto the couch and the stranger stands crossing his arms over his chest. Hakyeon lets out an unmanly whimper when he realizes just how muscular this guy is. All he can do is wrap himself into a small ball. Until he remembers  _ oh, right. Warlock. Magic _ and his cheeks heat up at how dramatic his reaction has been thus far. Maybe he should have listened to Jaehwan and joined a community theatre.

Hakyeon is angry. Angry partly because he’s embarrassed by his reaction and partly because  _ who the hell does this guy think he is?  _ He breaks into Hakyeon's apartment and then gets offended when Hakyon doesn’t know who he is. With a clenched jaw, Hakyeon squeezes his eyes tight and mutters a spell under his breath. Shortly after, he opens them and watches the stranger’s eyes widen when his feet refuse to move. Hakyeon smirks as he watches the stranger struggle and groans. “That’s why you don’t mess with Warlocks,” Hakyeon declares smugly. He has a smirk on his face, feeling victorious in this battle. Standing from his crouching position, he begins to tread over cautiously to the strange man in his apartment to question him. 

The man bends backward as Hakyeon takes a step forward, most likely to avoid Hakyeon from getting too close to him. “Who are you?” Hakyeon’s finger is pointing at the man, his eyes squinting. 

The man gasps as if he’s come to a realization. He stands back up straight, their faces only a couple of inches apart, too close for comfort. “You really don’t know who I am, do you?” Hakyeon sputters incomprehensibly at the question before he stops and tries to remember the spell to transport somebody. If this guy isn’t going to answer him, he’s no help and Hakyeon wants him out. 

Just as the transportation spell comes to his mind, the stranger disappears before Hakyeon’s eyes with a smirk on his face and a wink. The only proof that another person was just in his apartment are the sneakers that are too large for Hakyeon’s feet, resting where the stranger was standing, and the foil wrapper of the snack thrown on his couch. There are crumbs that fell into the crevices of the couch and a small remainder of the regarded Pop-Tart thrown without care. Hakyeon is so shocked at the sudden disappearance that he freezes, wondering if he mindlessly muttered the transportation spell out loud since that’s the only thing he can think of that can explain the stranger vanishing into mid-air. However, the transportation spell does not leave clothes behind. Hakyeon puts his head in his hands and groans, the woeful sound resonating through his apartment.

A loud (louder than usual) crow call rings through his head; Hakyeon can’t even think because of the volume. He moves his hands off of his face to rub his temples and sits on his couch. To put it simply, he’s confused. 

The crow calls again, and it’s loud, sounding somehow mocking. Hakyeon doesn’t even understand how a crow can caw mockingly. He sighs, wondering if maybe he’s hallucinating from lack of sleep. Is this another side effect of summoning a familiar? A sharp pain prickles at his shoulder, and Hakyeon groans and goes to massage it. Instead, his hand comes into contact with something soft—   _feathery—_ and definitely _not_ his shoulder. His head shoots up like his life depends on it. On his shoulder rests a crow, black like the night sky, staring directly at Hakyeon. He panics and screams yet again and jumps off the couch, landing directly on his ass. He misses the coffee table by about an inch. 

The crow floats in the air with ease, flapping its wings so that no matter where Hakyeon slides across the floor, the crow remains only inches away from his face. Hakyeon slides across the floor until he backs himself into the small space between his couch and the corner of the living room, hitting his head against the wall. The crow takes advantage of the fact that Hakyeon is trapped and lands on his knee.

The crow caws again, low and long, unlike any sound Hakyeon has ever heard a crow make. He refuses to move as the crow stares at him, occasionally cawing quietly, as if trying to talk under its breath. Hakyeon moves his head up away from the wall and leans in to examine the crow. His eyebrows furrow together curiously as the crow takes a small step forward on his knee. Face barely inches away from the crow’s beak, Hakyeon asks, “are you what I summoned? My Familiar?” His voice resembles that of the bird’s cries: quiet, barely heard over the noise of everyday life bustling outside. The answer is obvious, but with everything that’s happened recently, double-checking never hurts. “Did you get rid of that stranger?” 

The crow squawks, and Hakyeon wonders if that’s supposed to be a confirmation. Can this crow even understand him? Having a Familiar is just so new to him, he doesn’t know what the crow comprehends; and by the way the crow is blankly staring at him, Hakyeon is pretty positive that summoning this crow is going to turn out to be a waste of his time. Why did his friends get cats and he gets a bird? The crow stands comfortably on his knee, Hakyeon watching mindlessly as the crow does absolutely nothing. He sighs and rests his head against the wall behind him. This was useless. 

And now he has a crow to take care of. 

The crow flies off of his knee, causing him to pick his head back up and watch the crow fly up above him. It cries out, and Hakyeon hits his head against the wall once again, hoping his neighbors don’t complain. The walls in his apartment complex are so thin, and this bird so is loud. 

He closes his eyes and tries to ignore the crow, pretty successfully, until he feels something fall on his forehead and cheek. 

Hakyeon screeches, his neighbors being the last thing on his mind as he stands up and runs towards his bathroom. With his left eye shut to prevent having bird shit drip into his eye, he tries his best to navigate around the clothes scattered throughout his apartment. The last thing he wants to do is slip. 

He’s walking with his head tilted up to stop the excretion from dripping even lower on his face, feeling it slowly approach his lips. The bathroom door bursts open when he shoves it with his shoulder and stumbles over his feet to make it to the sink. The towel hanging next to him dangles mockingly as he yanks it off the rack and turns on the water, too disgusted by the bird poop on his face that he doesn’t realize the water getting hotter until it burns his hand. “Jesus fucking— shit,” he mutters as he pulls his hand and the towel away from the water. A caw echoes back from the living room and he feels his blood boil.

Hakyeon usually has a way with words. Usually, however, he doesn’t have a crow flying around his apartment and said crow’s shit on his face.

The towel is rough on his face as he scrubs, and scrubs, and scrubs until he’s positive that his face is clean. Leaning towards the mirror, he checks that his assumption is correct. There’s a dark stain on his white shirt so he takes it off and chucks it to the side, watching it land on the toilet seat.  _ At least it was closed, _ he thinks to himself as he stares in the mirror. His left cheek and eyelid are red from the irritation that rubbing the towel on his face caused, standing out from the rest of his skin. He storms out of the bathroom, his steps loud and shaking the apartment. 

On his couch rests the stranger from before, legs crossed and feet dangling off the end of the couch as he lays comfortably.  His shoes are still on the floor from when he disappeared. Hakyeon growls— literally  _ growls _ — out of frustration and feels the magic in his body start to tingle. The sensation of his magic itching to lash out is something he hasn’t felt in years, not since he was fifteen and barely under control of his magic. He had too little sleep and is too caught up in his emotions to think rationally and try to calm down, nails digging crescent-shaped marks into his palms and knuckles turning white. Through his rage, he can see the stranger no longer has a smirk on his face; it’s replaced with wide eyes and an unreadable expression. 

“Hey, hey,” the stranger says as he untangles his legs and stands, holding his hands out as a calming gesture. Hakyeon stomps forward and smacks the strangers hands down. There’s an audible gasp for breath as Hakyeon glares intensely. “I’m done fucking around. You’re one wrong move away from wishing you never stepped foot into this apartment,” he threatens, fists shaking, adrenaline making it so that he doesn’t feel his nails digging into his palms. 

Hakyeon feels like Bruce Banner about to transform into the Hulk. 

The stranger nods apprehensively. “Who are you?”

“I’m your Familiar.” 

Hakyeon freezes, “You? You’re my…” He can’t form a sentence as he stares at the stranger— at his Familiar— up and down. He’s taller and more muscular than Hakyeon, black shirt tight against his skin, showing off a figure that Hakyeon can’t help but feel slightly jealous of. Self consciously, he crosses his arms over his stomach, eyes wandering back up to his Familiar’s face, whose stare is currently resting on Hakyeon’s chest. Thick thighs and tight jeans make it hard not to gape. His familiar stares back, seemingly just as confused as Hakyeon, and finishes his sentence, “Familiar.” 

There’s a stunned silence as Hakyeon tries to gather all his thoughts and questions into coherent sentences. His familiar inches back towards the couch, steps small and cautious. Hakyeon is completely taken out of his thoughts when he sees his Familiar pick the remaining Pop-Tarts up off the couch and nibble on them, resembling an animal. Like a bunny in the forest munching on leaves. 

“You’re nervous,” Hakyeon can’t help but state his observation. His Familiar’s eyes go back to their regular size almost instantly after being called out, but his body stays tense. “I feel your magic, and emotions, Hakyeon. I knew you were angry and I didn’t know what you were going to do to me.”

The words take a moment to sink in. “You were afraid.” It’s not a question; Hakyeon feels the need to repeat so he can understand. He doesn’t think anybody has ever been afraid of him in his whole life. He’s mellow, and, before today, he can’t recall the last time he lost his temper. There are no words exchanged for a bit, his Familiar is staring ahead at Hakyeon absentmindedly as Hakyeon tries his hardest to get his thoughts in order. He rubs at his temples with a sigh. 

“I’m gonna make coffee, want some?” It’s a small peace offering, the beginnings of a civil relationship. After a confirmation from the other man, Hakyeon turns and starts walking to the kitchen. He hopes that his Familiar doesn’t make a mess— or any more of a mess than he already has. The couch is already going to have to be vacuumed because of the Pop-Tart crumbs, and he has yet to make sure there’s no bird poop on the floor or walls. 

He pauses before walking into the kitchen, turning around to see his Familiar sitting silently on the couch. He’s still staring absentmindedly, however, this time at the black screen of the television. “What’s your name? You never told me.”

There’s a blank stare before he smiles, small yet content. “You can call me Sanghyuk.” 

“Sanghyuk…” Hakyeon says aloud, the name somehow just sounds  _ right _ coming from his own mouth, as if fate wanted it. “Now, at least when I scold you, I have a name to call you that I didn’t think of. You wouldn’t want to hear those. Trust me.” 

Hakyeon smiles as Sanghyuk let out a small snort at the taunt. He turns back and walks into the kitchen, deciding to wait until he finishes the coffee to ask questions. 

——

“So,” Hakyeon utters cautiously, placing the steaming mug of black coffee in front of Sanghyuk, “I guess the best thing to ask first is why, right?” He picks up his own mug and blows on it, as to not burn his mouth, and takes a small sip. Sanghyuk is seated cross-legged on the couch; he doesn’t uncross his arms to reach for his mug. “Why...” Sanghyuk repeats quietly.

Hakyeon takes another sip while waiting for a response. He doesn’t understand why Sanghyuk has to think about this question. Why was he tormented for months in his dreams? What was so important that he had to summon his Familiar? He would do fine without help for his magic.

Sanghyuk looks at his lap, looks at the mug, then sighs. He reaches for the mug, holds it close to himself but doesn’t take a sip. “When you summoned me, do you remember the pain?” Hakyeon doesn’t think he could forget— it hurts just to think about. He nods. 

There’s a mutter from his Familiar, however, Hakyeon can’t quite make it out. As he’s about to ask, Sanghyuk groans and throws his head back. “I was lonely.” Hakyeon raises his eyebrows so high that they disappear underneath his bangs. “You—” With a deep breath, ( _ just breathe,  _ he tells himself) there’s a soft clank as Hakyeon places his mug on the table in front of him. Sanghyuk curled into himself, even more, Hakyeon notices, and he takes yet another deep breath. “You were lonely? That’s it? That was your only reason?” Hakyeon accuses, his voice calm but his words threatening. 

“You’re happy— I mean, not at this very moment,” Sanghyuk quickly adds, fumbling over his words, “but usually. You have friends. I could always feel your happiness.” He looks at Hakyeon with an unreadable emotion in his eyes. “Try dealing with that pain but knowing that there’s a way to stop it. Familiars are supposed to be called for, we’re  _ supposed _ to help. It hurts us not to.”

The room is silent, tension thick and suffocating. Sanghyuk swallows as Hakyeon looks into his cream-and-sugar-filled coffee, thinking.

“Let me help you.” His voice is no louder than a whisper. Hakyeon looks back up to make eye contact. It doesn’t last long. Hakyeon looks away but can feel Sanghyuk’s stare burning into his skull. 

“Okay.” His voice is weak, shaky. Hakyeon can’t place why he’s feeling so emotional; he guesses that it has something to do with his and Sanghyuk’s shared energies, but he’s not sure. If his anger was felt, it makes sense that he can feel Sanghyuk’s desperation. An unfamiliar loneliness already invaded once, more emotions must be able to do the same. 

He picks his head up again when he hears the couch quietly creak. Sanghyuk had uncurled a bit, feet touching the floor, and Hakyeon feels relief. “Did you actually want the coffee, or did you say yes just to say yes,” Hakyeon asks to try and lighten the mood. He watches Sanghyuk’s face redden and Hakyeon chuckles as a sip is taken. The reaction is priceless; Sanghyuk’s face contorts from the taste and he lets out an audible gag. He gasps like a fish out of water after spitting the coffee back into the mug, “What the fuck? This is horrible— don’t  _ laugh _ at me.” 

Laughing loudly, his heart feels like it’s soaring high in his chest. Sanghyuk is ranting about the bitter taste and questioning how anybody could ever drink coffee without spitting it out. It’s mid-sentence that he stops, stares at the other mug intensely. “Why is yours a different color than mine? Are we drinking the same thing?” There’s no sugar or cream in his, Hakyeon forgot to ask if he wanted any. He was preoccupied. 

There’s stifled laughter and Hakyeon gestures to his own mug, a silent invitation for Sanghyuk to try his. His eyebrows furrow and he cautiously puts his own mug down to stare into the lighter coffee. There’s a moment of no movement, only staring. Hakyeon feels engulfed by the tension even during the mundane situation. It’s only coffee, but Sanghyuk makes the situation too interesting to look away.

Sanghyuk reaches for the coffee mug slowly and sniffs it, blows on it, then takes a small sip. His nose scrunches up and he places the cup back down in front of Hakyeon. “It’s still gross,” he complains. Pulling his hands away from the cup like it burns to hold it, he watches with disgust on his face as Hakyeon drinks the coffee. With a soft  _ gulp _ , Hakyeon wordlessly stands, taking Sanghyuk’s mug to the kitchen to pour it into the sink. There’s no point in keeping the coffee on the table to sit around and get cold. The sink gurgles down the drink as he places the mug on top of the remaining coffee. 

“I still have a lot of questions for you,” Hakyeon says, sitting back down on his loveseat. The air between them isn’t nearly as awkward as it was before. It’s more comfortable for both of them, Hakyeon thinks, since Sanghyuk is no longer curled into himself. His posture has improved— he’s sitting proudly upright instead of slouching. His legs are off of the couch so that his feet can touch the floor, legs spread slightly. The only obvious discomfort Hakyeon can notice is that Sanghyuk’s arms are still crossed. Body language is an instinctive way to see emotions; it’s a way into a person’s mind without invading privacy like mind-reading spells would. Hakyeon appreciates the convenience. 

Sanghyuk clears his throat, getting Hakyeon’s attention. His voice is quiet as he asks what the questions are. As the words leave his mouth, he rubs his thumb against the cleanly-trimmed nail on his pointer finger. 

“Right! You— uh—” Hakyeon trips over his words because  _ God,  _ this is a weird question, “You’re… crow?” 

Hakyeon mentally punches himself in the face. 

Sanghyuk’s eyebrows furrow as he takes in the broken sentence. He opens and closes his mouth a few times. “Are you asking if I was the crow?” 

Embarrassment makes itself evident on Hakyeon’s (now) bright red cheeks. “I know that you were the crow now,” he spits out quickly, trying not to look like a complete idiot, “you shapeshift?”

There’s an amused sound of acknowledgment, Sanghyuk turning his head to where Hakyeon was cornered before. “Yeah. Sorry about the shit.” Hakyeon opens his mouth to ask another question but he’s cut off. “Before you ask, it was kind of on purpose,” he pauses while Hakyeon gasps dramatically, putting his hand over his heart to show betrayal. “But also,” Sanghyuk continues, “when you’re a bird, you gotta go when you gotta go.” 

“You shat on me!” 

That’s the sentence that brings them both to tears, laughing. Hakyeon laughs until his stomach hurts and his face turns red, not out of embarrassment, for once. Eventually, he’s able to take a few deep breaths and calms himself down. Sanghyuk, on the other hand, is still snorting and gasping for breath. Hakyeon stores the fact that Sanghyuk snorts in the back of his mind (for blackmailing purposes, he tells himself). 

Hakyeon’s eyes wander and he notices the crow feather and crystal still on the floor. While Sanghyuk is busy laughing, he rushes to pick them up and throw the feather away. He doesn’t know how ethically Hongbin managed to get that feather, and he certainly doesn’t want Sanghyuk asking about it. He puts the crystal in his pocket and dashes back into his living room. 

Sanghyuk is still laughing as Hakyeon sits back down, his eyes closed tight. After a few moments, Sanghyuk is able to bring his laughter down to giggles. Hakyeon opens his mouth to ask another question and watches Sanghyuk hold his breath to stop more snickers from leaving his mouth. It’s something that a little kid would do, and Hakyeon’s heart soars realizing that. “Can you bring me some shiny things next time you turn into a crow since you shat on me?” Hakyeon giggles at his own joke. 

Sanghyuk lets out all the air he was holding. “You’re thinking of ravens.” His voice sounds hurt, and Hakyeon immediately shuts his mouth. “Crows don’t look for shiny things, ravens do.” He looks pained but has a weak smile on his face. 

Hakyeon’s mouth forms a perfect ‘o’. It takes a couple of seconds to think of an apology that Sanghyuk would accept. 

“I got confused,” he admits, cheeks turning red as Sanghyuk nods. All the research he’s done has caused a lot of the crow and raven facts to combine in his head. He starts to stutter out how the facts twist in his brain, but realizes he’s beating a dead horse. 

The air is awkward, neither man speaking until Hakyeon suddenly announces that he’s tired and needs to take a nap. Sanghyuk nods again. 

Before leaving the living room, Hakyeon turns on the television. He hopes Sanghyuk enjoys house renovation shows since that’s all Hakyeon ever watches. The Property Brothers are obnoxiously loud throughout the apartment; Hakyeon is now too far to turn down the volume, and he’s almost positive that Sanghyuk doesn’t understand how remote controls work. 

With a sigh, Hakyeon closes his bedroom door. 

——

Naps are a great distraction. The only problem, Hakyeon knows, is that they’re only temporary. With no sun shining through his window, he forces himself to pick up his phone to check the time.

10:39 P.M. 

Untangling his legs from the covers, he stumbles over to open the door leading to the living room. Hakyeon didn’t expect to sleep for 5 hours, that might as well be a full night’s sleep. He hopes that Familiars don’t experience hunger, and Sanghyuk only ate the Pop-Tart earlier today out of curiosity. 

Quiet steps lead Hakyeon to the television to turn it off. He examines the scene in front of him; Sanghyuk is asleep, laying on his back with his left knee bent and his right leg hanging off of the couch. Something is in between his hands on his chest, but it’s too dark to see what it is. Hakyeon takes a small step, trying to keep weight light as he treads over. It’s no use, Sanghyuk awakens when Hakyeon approaches. He’s barely alert, only muttering something incomprehensible before his eyes fall shut again. 

Hakyeon takes a nervous breath before leaning forward to look at what Sanghyuk is holding. 

From up close, he can see that Sanghyuk is holding not just one thing, but a pile of random garbage. Hakyeon stares until an aluminum bottle top catches his eye and realizes that everything is shiny. 

A blush colors Hakyeon’s cheeks. 

Sanghyuk went out of his way to grab things for Hakyeon while he was asleep, even though crows don’t look for shiny things. Among the pile, besides the bottle top, Hakyeon sees a necklace, piece of aluminum foil, coins, and a nice watch. 

Like a butterfly’s wings, Hakyeon’s heart is fluttering. Carefully, he kneels down next to Sanghyuk and kisses his cheek softly. 

Their shared emotional bond causes Sanghyuk to smile softly in his sleep. 

“Good night Sanghyuk.” Hakyeon whispers. His words are barely audible, he’s speaking for himself. Sanghyuk just happens to be who the words are directed at. “Thank you for what you’ve done, only in one day. I’ve smiled and laughed so much today. I can’t imagine how much you’ll be able to help me in the long run.”

He smiles sweetly before standing back up, relieved that the sound of his knees cracking didn’t wake Sanghyuk.

Hakyeon scuffs back into his room and gets into bed with a feeling of happiness in his chest. Sanghyuk’s earlier plea of  _ “let me help you,”  _ is ringing throughout Hakyeon’s brain as he lays in bed and stares at the dark ceiling. He was confused when Sanghyuk begged, but now he thinks he understands. It’s not that he needs help with his magic— though having somebody forage the forest for him would be extremely helpful. Plus, then he wouldn’t have to pay Hongbin, the shady Warlock, for things that could be found for free— he was just lonely.

Sanghyuk mentioned that Hakyeon has friends, and he  _ does _ have friends. Some are as close as family, but he never really sees them. Taekwoon and Jaehwan are always traveling to get the best ingredients for their potions and spells, and Wonsik locks himself in his apartment constantly do to God knows what. They have a group chat, but recently they’ve lost contact. Jaehwan and Taekwoon have no cell signal, wherever they are now. Hakyeon recalls something about Australia. 

Sanghyuk is here to give him another constant in his life, another familiar face to see. Hakyeon smiles at the thought and pulls the blanket up to his cheeks. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to:  
> you, the reader!
> 
> whoever the prompter was! i saw this prompt and took it and ran with it. i hope you like it
> 
> the mods running the fic fest!!
> 
> my lovely friend who beta’d this! 
> 
> if you did enjoy, please leave a comment or kudos!! 
> 
> :-) ❤️


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